Cut
by Tochi and Flap Jack
Summary: Sam finds a new way to deal with his problems. Warning: Wincest, self mutilation
1. One More Day

A/n: Tochi: Yeah, this just randomly came to me because I really wanted to read a self- mutilation story, yet… couldn't find one…

Disclaimer: Flap Jack: Neither Tochi, Me, nor this fish own Supernatural, Jared, or Jensen… though that would kick arse.

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Sam fidgeted a bit in his seat, pulling his jacket sleeve down over the heel of his hand. Dean looked over at his brother, curiosity evident in his gaze before it returned to the road.

"Something wrong, Sammy?"

"It's _Sam_." Came the annoyed reply.

"Is something wrong, _Sam_?" Dean tried again.

"No, Dean, I'm fine." Sam said in the same annoyed tone, but he wasn't fine. He'd tried other methods, he really had, but in the end he resorted to… this. This was his last resort.

No, Sam wasn't going to kill himself, he didn't want to die, he just wanted to make living easier. He didn't remember when or how he'd gotten this idiotic idea, but he knew he'd first started at 15, Dean had eventually figured out, lectured him, then kept a very close eye on him for the next two months. Dean's watchful eye had kept Sam from going back to his dangerous and harmful hobby, but Jess…

Things had been just fine when he was living in the apartment with her, he'd been happy, his blade had been the farthest thing from his mind. But then she was taken away. She burned, pinned to the ceiling. He hadn't even started right afterwards, he was driven by revenge, grief not yet taking its grasp, not until a month ago.

Sam guessed it had started again right after their dad had come and helped them with the vampires, when John had shot Luther and saved his ass. Sam didn't know why, maybe it was because everyone else was saving him, but he couldn't save Jess or himself, all he knew was, he'd found a pretty blade, then made a pretty little river of blood on his arm.

He'd only used his arm once, he wasn't stupid enough to chose such an obvious place again. That had been why Dean had figured him out, wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer? Just a bit suspicious. In the end Sam had resorted to his thighs, he still got the same feeling of release, the pain easing if only for a little bit, but it came back. It always came back, but the small time that emotional pain was lifted, the grief wasn't gnawing at him, trying to chew it's way through his chest.

Sam knew Dean would eventually figure out what he was doing if he continued using his arms, so in the end he turned to his thighs. Neither of them wore shorts, and Sam would rarely show his legs anyway. He usually slept in pants, unlike his brother and his underwear habit, and to tell the absolute truth, he was glad he did at that point.

He rested his head against the window, wondering when the scars would fade enough or something would attack him and scratch up his arm so he wouldn't have to wear his jacket and long sleeves all the time, it was already starting to get warmer, and they were headed down toward Texas.

Sam let his eyes slide closed as he tried to remember his last time and which of his blades he had used. If memory served him right, last night, around midnight, and that time he had used his pocket knife, his razor stuffed safely in the bottom of his bag, hidden inside one of his socks.

He knew he would either sneak in a session at a gas station- if Dean wasn't going to stop- or in the bathroom at a motel. He hated having to use gas stations. He could never make himself bleed there, it would take to long to stop the bleeding, and he didn't want to have to start explaining things to his often lower brained brother

Sam thought for sure he would go crazy if they would end up sleeping in the car for a week. Things were… complicated. First, things were way, way to close back there, and he never knew when his brother may squirm around and hit his thighs or accidentally pull up his sleeve, and second… Sam was starting to feel… strongly toward his older brother.

He knew that Dean would never approve of such a thing, he was straight through and through, never looked at a guy in his life, let alone even consider thinking about, even in his drunkest state his little brother. Sam also didn't want to explain to his brother 'sure Dean, that was a flashlight pressing against your ass!' He was just _oh-so-sure_ that would fly with his more than likely homophobic brother.

He bit at his inner lip to keep himself from trying to claw at his cuts through his jeans and make them bleed for once again letting his mind kick into pervo mode and want his brother's ass again

"Sam, are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked , breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

'No Dean, I'm not, but I just can't tell you everything that's wrong, how can you save me from you and myself?' Sam thought somewhat bitterly.

"Yes, I'm fine, I would have told you if something was wrong, Dean." Sam lied once again.

Dean frowned at his brother's response, he knew it wasn't the truth. Dean wanted to know what was wrong with his little brother, it was a part of his brotherly duties to keep him safe, and if something was bothering him, he wasn't safe

Sam glanced over at his brother, he knew Dean could see through his façade, but if he didn't press the subject, then Sam was safe another day to be a danger to himself.

He had one more day to Cut.

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A/n: Tochi: well, chapter one went smoothly!

Flap Jack: and it's longer than the one she's currently brain stuck on, you remember, '_Have You Seen My Brother?' _from… a few weeks ago?

Tochi: shut up Flap Jack ;;;

And another note, I haven't updated in a while because A) I got grounded for no reason B) John (dad) is an asshat C) Sammy's kept me busy with our roleplay –giggles- and I haven't been able to make more chapters D) I couldn't get into the login page thingy when I did get back to update.

Flap Jack: P Yeah whatever, multi-chaptered, so review, put it on alert, stand back AND JOIN MY EVIL ARMY!


	2. You Can't Save Me From Myself

A/n: Tochi: Rather quick update, sorry for all my loyal readers who are still waiting for an update for my other stories, I'm stuck in the middle of a chapter on _10 Things_ and I'm stuck at the very beginning of _Have You Seen My Brother? _I'm hoping writing this will help me to get un-stuck

Disclaimer: Flap Jack: Nope, still don't own it

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Dean sighed as he turned the key and pushed the door open, walking inside and leaving the door open for his brother. Dean as usual set his bags down on the bed closest to the door, Sam closing it and sitting down on the other one.

Dean didn't know why his brother seemed so opposed to walking or running. He always seemed to be in some sort of pain while he was moving from point A to point B. What Dean didn't know, was why.

Dean didn't know nearly as much about his brother as he thought he did. He didn't know that Sam had more then one big secret he was keeping from him. Dean didn't know about the cutting. Dean didn't know about his brother's more than brotherly love for him. Dean just didn't know.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" Dean asked, re-shouldering his bag after he had removed his jacket and shirt, toeing off his boots and socks.

"Because nothing _is_ wrong, Dean." Sam lied as he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the rough denim slid across freshly cut skin. Yup, he'd resorted to using the gas station bathroom once he was really desperate for his release. Eight parallel lines cut across his thighs, four per leg.

"Quit lying to me Sam, why won't you just tell me?"

"Because, there is nothing wrong!" Sam was half yelling now, turning away from his brother so Sam didn't have to look at him in his half naked state.

"Would you just stop lying?" Dean sighed, shaking his head and brushing past Sam to get to the bathroom.

Once the door was closed and Sam heard the shower start he peeled off his shirt, switching it for a clean one before carefully peeling off his pants. Only two of his cuts were bothered by his jeans, the two lowest of all of them, just barely peeking out from beneath the soft cotton of his boxers.

He gingerly ran a finger over them, he'd just barely split them open, but it had been enough for a small release. He picked his jeans up from the bed, fishing out a small razor blade, seating himself on the edge of the bed. He slowly bore the cool metal down on the lowest cut on his left thigh. He smiled as he was greeted by the sharp rush of pain then slowly slid it along the length of the sure-to-be scar.

He smiled at the trail of blood that followed his blade, some sticking to the metal, but most bubbling up in a line some parts taking longer than others. While that cut was oozing blood, Sam tugged a bit at his boxers, pulling them up to reveal deeper cuts. He listened closely to the shower running, not wanting to be caught by his brother, that was the last thing he needed.

He pressed down on the upper most waiting until blood pushed up around the edges of the razor before he slowly slid it along, reopening the wound. This one bled up quick unlike the more shallow one he'd just attended. He grabbed the box of tissues and cleaned up the blood as it dripped to the side of his thigh.

He never interfered with the actual bleeding, only cleaned up what would stray away, or wash the blood off once it had clotted over. Sam never tried to stop it.

Once the bleeding has slowed so he wouldn't have to pay full attention to it, he replaced the razor on his right, pressing down on one of the middle ones, slicing the skin quickly on that one. He watched the two sides drift apart with mild interest, though it was like the same effect when you put a child in front of a TV when the blood appeared. He stared at it, his head tipping to one side and wiping the blood away as it slid to his inner thigh and threatened to drip onto the floor.

He wiped the blood away from his other thigh, dropping the tissue into the bed and grabbing another, wiping away one particular drop that had run down to the pit of his knee.

He would tell Dean his nose had started bleeding if he saw the tissues in the trash can. He'd probably believe that, but if he didn't, then Sam would be in trouble.

Sammy felt bad about lying to Dean. He'd never liked it when he was a kid and lied about eating the last cheap store bought cookie, but then lying to him when he was 23 about mutilating himself? That left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He did it for Dean's own good. He lied about what he did to himself. He lied when Dean asked if he was alright. He just straight out lied to him. He just couldn't tell him, he couldn't tell his brother what he was doing. He knew his brother would want to help, but there was nothing Dean could do to help.

Dean just couldn't save Sam from himself Dean couldn't save Sam from Dean. He couldn't help Sammy this time. Dean just couldn't be the hero, he couldn't just save the day and be Super Man when he was the bad guy too.

Sam sighed and wiped the blood away again, the razor still pinched between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger, the blade still twinged red with his blood. Sam knew he needed help. It was like he was addicted to the endorphin high he got when he cut himself.

He was addicted to the sight of his blood bubbling up and spilling over.

He was addicted to the smell of his blood.

He was addicted to the feel of his blood oozing down his thigh.

He was addicted to the pain of splitting his skin.

Sam was addicted to cutting.

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Dean leaned against the cool wall of the shower, letting the water beat down on his skin, starting at his waist and ending at his knees. He'd already washed himself off, but he just needed time to think, consider his options. He wanted to know what was up with Sammy.

He started going to a check list of all the signs that Sam was sending out. Withdrawn… very withdrawn… kind of like how he had been when he was fifteen and Dean… found out… he was… 'SHIT!' His mind screamed as he pushed himself off of the wall, not shutting off the water, grabbing a towel and winding it around his hips.

Why hadn't he thought of that? Sam had been doing it before!

Dean shook his head, glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror as he passed, pushing the door open.

Imagine his surprise and guilt when he found his brother sitting on his bed, back to him, bloody tissues piled onto the bed next to him. As Sam put the used one down Dean could also see the quick flash of metal.

He was right.

Sam was at it again.

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Sam could have sworn he heard the door open and close, but the shower was going. 'I'm just being paranoid' Sam reassured himself, pressing the blade in for another go around.

"Ahem."

Sam almost jumped out of his skin.

Dean walked into Sam's line of vision, razor still pressed against the skin.

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A/n: Tochi: Well… rather short and to chopped up for my taste, wish it could have been longer, but if I continued, it would have subtracted from the dramatic tension I was trying to build

Flap Jack: Yeah, trying. –rolls eyes- Anyway, you read it, so review, put it on alert, stand back, and join my Flap Jackian army.


	3. He Can't Believe The Truth

A/n: Tochi: Ok, I've been updating a lot lately, because I have no life… yeah This quick update was also due to me feeling bad about the whole cliffie thing… and people complaining about it.

Also, it has come to my attention that a few of my reviewers have been upset about the Wincest. If you don't like the Wincest, contact me and I can send you the un-Wincested version, I'm doing it already, so feel free to ask… heck, if you want a more intensified Wincest story tell me that and I'll type it up too! –has no life-

Disclaimer: Linc: Since Flap Jack doesn't want to do this I get to be your Disclaimer person! Woo! –crickets chirp- …. Yeah, We don't own it.

Flap Jack: Yay another moron to mock!

Tochi: I'm not changing out pen name! –grumbles to self about already to long of a name-

Linc: Well –offended noise-

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"Sammy." Dean knelt down in front of his brother, easing the razor off of his skin and taking the blade away.

"Sammy, why are you doing this?" Dean asked, setting the blade down on the floor beside himself, not letting go of Sam's wrist. Even though he was opposed to chick flick moments, this was his baby brother and he was having serious problems.

Sam couldn't look at his brother, he looked down and away, embarrassed by the entire thing.

He could feel Dean's gaze burning into the side of his head, but he couldn't look to meet that gaze, he couldn't speak, he just couldn't.

"Sammy." Dean whispered, twisting his arm just a bit so his forearm was facing up. He ran his fingers down his brother's scars, frowning.

"Can you at least tell me when you started this again… did you ever stop?" Dean questioned, looking up at his brother.

Sam could feel the tears in his eyes. He'd disappointed Dean. He'd done this to his hero. He didn't know that this was how Dean would take it. He always thought he'd get angry and start yelling, he didn't know he would do this.

Dean sighed and shook his head, standing and pulling Sam up by his writs, being unusually gentle with him, "Let's just get you cleaned up."

Sam adverted his gaze to the floor as his brother picked up the first aid kit and nudged him toward the bathroom.

"Undress Sammy." Dean said firmly, setting the kit down on the counter; busying himself with opening it.

Sam just blushed at the command, making no move to do so.

"Sam, I need you to undress, that's the only way I can know for sure that you're not cutting anywhere else." Dean said in a patient voice.

Sam slowly complied, doing his best to cover himself as he looked away. Dean only pushed his hands away for a second then just glanced over the rest of him. Once he was satisfied that Sam was only mutilating his arm and thighs he pointed to the shower.

"Rinse off Sammy, it'll make this easier." Dean said calmly.

He backed up to the shower and reached his hand in, frowning when he found it had gone cold. He fiddled with the knobs, trying to adjust the heat.

While Sam was busying himself with rinsing, Dean left the bathroom and pulled on his pants, fastening them and running a hand through his still wet hair.

When he came back, Sammy was rinsed and drying himself off, shivering as the coolness of the bathroom was magnified by the drops of water still clinging to his body.

"Sit down on the counter for me, ok?" Dean asked once Sammy had taken his sweet time drying off, though still shivering.

The youngest hunter nodded and shuffled over to the counter, turning around and placing his hands on either side of him and hopping up onto the counter, then quickly replacing his hands in front of his crotch to protect what little pride he may have left.

Dean first pulls his left arm away, telling Sam to hold it just the way it was once he had gotten it into an angle where the cuts were illuminated by the lights above the counter.

Dean picked out the bottle of rubbing alcohol and the small bag of cotton balls. He took out one piece of cotton and unscrewed the cap, replacing the cap with the cotton and tipping the bottle, holding it for a second then putting the bottle back down and rubbing the now wet cotton up and down Sam's forearm until he was satisfied that it was cleaned.

He then picked up the gauze and wrapped it up, only two layers, it wasn't bad enough to need more. Once his arm was finished, he turned his attention to Sam's thighs. He tossed the previously used cotton ball and put more alcohol on the new one, his hand going to Sam's knee and slowly pressing it down onto the cut.

Sam gave a small whine at the sudden sting, his hands clasping in front of him tight. He closed his eyes as Dean rubbed the cut clean, finally stopping when it wasn't hurting Sammy anymore. He threw that one in the trash and repeated his previous task, rubbing at Sam's deeper cut until it wasn't stinging then moving on until he'd cleaned up all his self inflicted wounds. Once they were cleaned, he rubbed some sort of cream on them, what it was, Sam didn't know, but there was still a mild sting from when Dean had been cleaning him up.

Dean looked up at Sam and took his wrist, stepping back and tugging at it until Sam slipped off the counter. Dean grabbed the gauze squares and pressed them against the shallower ones, holding one and frowning as he grabbed another and held it next to the other one, one being pinned by his thumb the other with his little finger. Once he had them placed where he wanted them, he grabbed the roll of gauze and wrapped it around Sam's thigh seven or eight times before taping it off, repeating this process with the other not so deep cut.

When Dean got to the deeper ones, though, Sam whimpered at the pressure, his hands shaking where he held them still trying to cover himself. Dean looked up at his brother and frowned.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore than you already have Sam, it's bad enough that one of us is a danger to you." Dean said somewhat bitterly, "But I have to bandage you up."

Sam nodded sadly, biting at his lip as Dean dressed up that cut the fastest he could while still keeping it neat and tidy.

He was trying to be a bit gentler with the last one, the deepest one. The first had been very small especially compared to this one, that had been the one that he had walked in on, then the other two were deeper, but this one was just shallow enough that it wouldn't need stitches, ok maybe it did, but Dean didn't want to hurt Sam anymore, and he didn't have anything to numb it while he stitched him up. He could take him to a hospital, but then they'd know they were self inflicted and admit him to some happy home, and that was the last thing the two needed.

Yes Sam needed help, but Dean knew that he wouldn't do well with a counselor he didn't know or like, staying with Dean would be far better. Dean didn't want his brother to be locked up in the loony lounge either, it almost drove him crazy when Sam'd been at Stanford or when Dean was in the hospital about to die, just knowing his little brother was unprotected.

The mental motel would defiantly be a last resort.

Once he had carefully bandaged up his brother, he straightened up and dug through the kit, taking out a bottle of Tylenol and dumping some out into his hand. He poured all but three back into the bottle and held those three out to Sam, picking up the little plastic cup that was upside down by the sink and filling it half way with water before handing it to Sam as well.

"Take them, they'll help with the pain." Dean instructed.

Sammy nodded and did as he was told, drinking all the water before putting it back next to the sink. Sam didn't notice until then that he was still shivering, but by the way Dean draped his arm around Sam's shoulders and steered him out of the cooler room into the slight warmth of the main one, Dean did.

He eased Sam down onto the bed farthest from the door then went around to the other side, picking up the razor and sliding it into his pocket.

"Get some rest Sammy, you're not sleeping enough."

Sam normally would have been arguing with his brother by then about how he was being treated, but Sam was very embarrassed and really guilty that he had been caught hurting himself, and he was just too tired to argue anyway.

Sam crawled up into the bed and burrowed under the blankets, laying on his side. He couldn't lay on his back, then he'd have to look at the ceiling, and after Jess, that was just too hard. Sam couldn't lay on his stomach either because of his self injured thighs, so it was his side or emotional and/or physical pain.

He snuggled down into the too soft mattress, his head resting on a too hard pillow. It took him a lot less time than he thought it would to fall asleep, but before he knew it, he was actually asleep.

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Dean sat down on his bed, pulling the razor out of his pocket. He stared at it for what must have been at least an hour before he gripped the dull part tight, throwing it and embedding it into the wall.

He was mad at himself, not Sam. If he should have pried harder, then Sammy wouldn't have done that to himself. Then Sam wouldn't be a danger to himself.

Dean just didn't know if he could trust his brother alone again, but first off he'd have to talk to Sam about, try to find out just what was going on.

"I just can't believe I let that happen." Dean whispered.

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A/n: Tochi: Wow, emotional chapter… for me at least. Hard to write for reasons I won't tell you about until the last chapter.

Linc: Another disclaimer! Wow! We don't own Tylenol either… though I do take a butt load of it…

Flap Jack: Druggie Anyway, read, review, alert, join army, you know the drill by now.


	4. Sorry For Helping

A/n: Tochi: sorry this took so long, my old keyboard broke and the spacebar on this one works at it's own will.

Disclaimer: Linc: All we own is this toaster that calls it's self a computer, our almighty duct taped keyboard, an internet connection, Flap Jack's dead slapping fish, and a box… although I do want to buy that hobo….

Flap Jack: Buy a hobo? Wow you're insane.

Linc: I get to speak out side the Disclaimer! Yes, I know I'm crazy

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Dean watched his little brother twitching just a bit as he slept. Dean just felt so damn guilty and confused. Had Sam ever stopped cutting? If he had, why was he going back to it?

Questions continued swarming his brain giving him a headache. Dean rubbed at his temples and pushed himself up off his bed and marched to the bathroom, taking three Tylenol before tiding up the room just to have something to do.

He looked around the bathroom, frowning as he shuffled back out, fist aid kit in hand. He tucked it back into his bag, running a hand through his currently flat hair vaguely wondering if he should spike it up, give himself something else to do.

Just as Dean started to rummage through his bag to find his gel, he heard a soft moan from the other bed. His head snapped up and over at Sam, finding him up on his hands and knees, head bowed between his arms, blanket just barely clinging to his hips.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned, instantly by his brother's bedside, "Sammy, what wrong?" He asked, fearing one of the cuts was infected, and his brother was sick because of it.

Sam turned his head and looked at his brother glancing back down then back to Dean, "I rolled over… and it burst open." He said quietly.

"Your cut? Which one?" Dean asked, pushing his brother onto his side then pulling him into a sitting position, leaving the blanket over his hips to keep him from being embarrassed by that whole thing again, but pushing it up to look at his thighs.

Sam shakily touched the bandage over the deepest cut where the blood was clearly soaked through.

Dean looked it over before going back over to his bag and taking out the first aid kit again. Grabbing the scissors out of it and cutting off the bandage, grabbing more gauze and poring some alcohol over it before pressing it to the once again bleeding cut, Sam yelping and jumping at the pressure and stinging pain of sterilization.

"Fuck, Sam, I'm sorry, but you need to go to the hospital." Dean sighed with a shake of his head. "It's too deep, it needs stitches."

Sam frowned, bowing his head and looking away. He was pissed off at himself for doing this in the first place. There was no way he could ever tell Dean what went through his head. Dean could never know.

"Sam, get dressed." Dean instructed, finishing dressing himself and grabbing his keys.

The youngest Winchester reluctantly crawled out of the warm sheets, dressing himself quickly.

Dean looked at him a moment before taking his shoulder and leading him out to the car. He left Sam to stand by the passenger door while he went around to the driver's side.

Sam didn't wait instruction of his brother and slid into the car, pulling the door shut behind himself and leaning against it.

Dean looked over at his brother and frowned, still trying to figure out why his brother would do that. He'd watched him closely after Jess to make sure he wasn't being stupid, but it'd been almost a year now, why would he start that crap up again?

He shook his head and turned on the Impala, relaxing a bit as it roared to life. He backed out then drove off, looking around for one of the 'hospital' signs.

Sam shifted around in his seat, chewing at his lip. Damn he wanted to cut. Even though cutting was what got him in this mess, he wanted to do it again. It was his way to relieve stress. Let a little tension loose. Sometimes to punish himself for letting that happen to Jess.

He blamed himself for her death. He'd lied and told her everything would be fine. Then he left. He just left her alone to die.

Suddenly the urge was amplified like a magnifying glass was put before his emotions.

Sam squirmed a bit more, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket and watching his thigh, blood slowly seeping up a little spot showing. He'd have to wash these jeans, and his boxers too. They were probably bloody too. He'd have to do laundry again, just like he'd taken up doing, right when he took up cutting. He'd started doing that chore when unexplainable stains kept ending up on his jeans and boxers.

"You ok, Sammy?" Dean asked, looking over at him before focusing back on the road.

Sam nodded with a small sigh, wondering just what they would say when they got to the hospital. Just how would Dean manage to sweet talk and lie around this one?

Dean rolled into the parking lot, into the first space he saw and parked. He turned his baby off and put the keys back in his leather jacket before sliding out, pushing the lock down before closing the door.

He walked around the car and opened his brother's door, "Come on Sammy." He said patiently waiting for his brother.

Sam just shook his head, before tucking it down toward his chest.

"Sam, come on, you need to get that stitched up."

Sam shook his head again, his body tensing a bit.

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before reaching in and grabbing his upper arm and dragging him out.

Sam gave a low whine as he was forced out of the car and shifted a bit, seeming uncomfortable in his own skin. Dean locked his door and pushed it shut before grabbing his arm again and trying to pull him along again.

Sam didn't budge.

"Sam, I'm loosing my patience, now come _on_." Dean half growled, tugging again.

Sam shook his head, giving another whine, still trying to sink into the floor.

"Fine, don't move, I'll just have to move you." Dean said in an annoyed tone, quickly curling an arm behind Sam's knees the other going to his back as he lifted his brother.

Sam frowned, squirming more and trying to get down.

"I'm not putting you down, Sam, this is the only way I'm getting you in there."

Sam frowned and stilled, Dean beginning motion. He carried him into the building, his face turning slightly red, his arms shaking a bit beneath the weight of his brother.

He carried him until they got to the front desk then gently let him down.

"Hi, Sam needs stitches, he cut his leg open, it's pretty bad."

The nurse nodded and came around the desk, "May I see the cut?"

"It's kinda up on his thigh, I don't think he'd enjoy that too much." Dean said giving her a sweet smile.

"Oh, alright, let's get you to a room then." She said with a nod, going around the desk again and picking up a manila folder and some papers before coming around again, "Follow me."

"Are you going to go on your own, or am I going to have to carry you, baby brother?" Dean asked, looking up into his brother's eyes.

He saw the brief flash of hurt and betrayal in his eyes, a slight flush coloring his cheeks before he slowly followed after the nurse.

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Tochi: Sorry this took forever, I've been school works bitch, and as I previously mentioned, I got a new keyboard, but this was the perfect chance to break it in!.

Flap Jack: Read, review, alert, join army, you know the drill by now.


	5. The Doctor is In

A/n: Tochi: yeah, done being school work's bitch, though if I'm still slow updating, then it's because I have a job.

Flap Jack: Yeah, walking dogs and dog-sitting

Tochi: ;

Disclaimer: Linc: I now seriously own a hobo! Bought Kristin's homeless brother for a nickel … but… still not SPN… WE DO OWN THIS PLOT THOUGH!

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Sam followed wordlessly after the nurse, sitting down on the bed as she plucked a paper out of the hanging tray on the door, then placed it in front of Sam's folder, telling them that a doctor would be with them in a minute.

Dean seated himself in the spinney stool and entertained himself with rolling across the floor and back.

"These are the only cool things about doctor's offices." Dean decided with a nod.

"How can you act like that?" Sam asked, his eyes locking on his brother's moving head.

"What do you mean, Sammy?" Dean asked innocently, not pausing in his spinning.

"After you caught me doing that, how can you act like everything's ok?"

Dean sighed shaking his head, "Everything is ok, because we're going to get that stitched up and it's never going to happen again."

"How do you know I wont start it up again?" Sam asked, giving up on looking his brother in the eye.

"Because I'm not going to let you."

"You can't watch me all the time, Dean."

"Sure I can, but if I really can't, then I'll cuff you to the bed to make sure you don't go and do anything stupid again.

Sam swallowed at Dean's statement, feeling his pants start to become tighter. His mind easily registered that as some sort of kink, and this really couldn't be good seeing as any minute he was going to have to shuck his pants, and then it would be rather noticeable.

Dean paused in his rolling to look at his brother, "What's up, Sammy? You ok?"

'_My cock's up, and no I'm not alright.'_ "Yeah, I'm fine Dean." He said, contradicting what he'd just thought.

"If you say so." Dean said with a shrug, before picking up his rolling.

Sam closed his eyes leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, trying to clam himself down.

'_Dead kittens…killing werewolves…the cramped space of the Impala… Dean driving the Impala and looking irresistible… fuck, didn't mean to think that!'_ Sam continued with thoughts such as these praying to god that he could get himself to go back down.

Both jumped a bit as the door swung open, and a doctor looking in her late twenties to early thirties came in, holding Sam's very small folder with a smile.

She faltered for a minute, looking at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

Dean stood up smiling sheepishly as he backed up toward the wall to watch the doctor work on his brother..

"Alright, you're Sam, right?" She asked, looking over at the man on the bed.

"Yeah."

"And you got cut and needs stitched up?"

"Uh-hu"

"May I see the cut?" She asked, doing well with keeping her patience.

"Uhh…" Sam said as a response, looking down and away.

The silence of the room was interrupted by Dean's sigh. "For christ's sake, Sam, just take off your pants so we can get out of here!"

The doctor seemed unaffected by Dean's comment, Sam, however, felt his face heat up quickly.

Sam took a deep breath sliding off the table and popping the button making sure to keep his eyes locked on what he was doing rather than looking up at the two other occupants of the room who he knew were staring at him.

By the time Sam got his pants off his face was bright red, and he'd done little to calm himself. He prayed to god it wasn't noticeable as he stepped out of his jeans and sat back on the bed.

She looked at the two visible cuts, one wrapped up, the other not cut open recently enough to need any attention.

The doctor looked up at his upper thigh, her attention either on the lump above his lap, or the blood that has soaked through his boxers. Lucky for Sam, she grabbed the bottom hem and tugged them up rather than have him strip.

She looked at the cut that was still oozing and pulled his underwear up a bit more so it would stay out of the cut and went to one of the drawers, coming back with yet more rubbing alcohol to sterilize the wound for the third time that day.

Sam once again yelped at the stinging and pressure, his eyes clamping closed. Once the doctor was satisfied that it was clean, the exited the room, coming back with what could pass as a tool kit and set it down next to Sam, inside the tools necessary for stitching up a cut.

She took out a syringe and took the cap off the end, filling it with something or other before leaning back down sliding the needle in just below the cut and injecting whatever that was into him.

"Ok, that'll take a minute or so to take effect, then we'll finish this up."

Sam nodded, scratching the back of his neck letting his eyes wonder around the room. His gaze landed on Dean who was staring at him. Sam bit his inner lip and followed his gaze, his face flushing when he noticed his brother's gaze either on the cut or his crotch, and the thought of Dean staring at his crotch made his cock jump.

Sam felt his face flush even more as he saw a smirk on his brothers face, and he knew for sure that he was staring at his cock.

Once the doctor was satisfied that Sam's leg was numb, she instructed Sam to lean back, this only making his problem more noticeable.

The doctor, however, ignored that and instead got to work on stitching his leg. Sam tried to, but couldn't watch her, he was fine with himself doing the damage, but when he saw the needle going in his skin and pulling it together, he felt the need to puke.

"Alright, that should do it." She said with a grin. "Now, your leg will be numb for about the next half hour or so, so it's up to you, you can stick around here until you can feel it again or leave."

Sam nodded, sliding off the bed, grabbing onto it just in time to keep himself from tipping over. She was right, his leg was completely numb.

Sam somehow managed to get his jeans on and get back onto the bed, deciding that the doctor must want something seeing as he hadn't left yet.

"Now I have a question." She said, her eyes locking on his.

"Yeah?"

"Would those cuts happen to be self inflicted?"

You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.

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A/n: Tochi: Cliffie! -dances-

Flap Jack: Short!

Tochi: Bite me!

Flap Jack: -bites Tochi-

Tochi: ow! ;

Flap Jack: Ok, now this is a first for Tochi, she actually has an idea on how she's going to finish this thing, so review and force her to keep going so she can have some sense of accomplishment… now… it's not the dark side, and it's not the light side, it's THE DIMLY LIT SIDE! A.k.a. the Flap Jackian army.


	6. Danger to Himself?

Tochi: I'm loved!

Flap Jack: I have psychokittyuk as my new pet!

Disclaimer: Linc: I don't own Supernatural… do own a hobo though!

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The doctor looked from Sam to Dean, waiting for a response.

"Why?" Dean finally asked, moving around to stand next to where Sammy was sitting.

"Because if they are, he needs help."

"He doesn't need any help."

"He's a danger to himself."

"I'm here, he's not a danger to himself."

"Well if you're keeping him from hurting himself, then I'm going to have to say he needs even more help than I originally thought."

Dean glared at her, his hand going to Sam's shoulder.

"He doesn't need anymore of your help, I'm going to take care of him."

"Please, just hear me out. We have a psychiatric ward in this hospital, he can spend a week or so there, just so he can get some help."

"He doesn't need your help." Dean repeated more forcefully. "Come on Sammy, let's get you outta here." Dean said, turning toward his brother and helping him off the bed, Sam staying on one foot.

"I… I can't exactly walk, Dean." Sam mumbled.

Dean simply scooped him up again, carrying him out of the hospital. By the time they got to the car, Dean's face was blood red, while he staggered beneath the weight of his brother. Sam knew that he shouldn't struggle, and he wasn't about to say anything to Dean for fear he'd anger him even more than he apparently was.

Dean set Sam down, leaning him against the car to keep weight off his numb leg as he went around and unlocked the car.

Sam opened the door once it was unlocked and somehow managed to get in before he fell. He closed the door behind himself, once again hating the confined space of the Impala.

Dean once again didn't seem to mind as he closed his own door and started up the car, throwing in his Motor Head tape and cruising back to the motel.

The ride back was only accompanied by Dean's music, which Sam considered god-awful. Once they got to the motel, Sam pushed the door open and swung his legs out, pushing himself up and promptly falling over, causing Dean to sigh.

Dean took his time, it seemed to Sam, getting out of the car and going over to him, grabbing his arm and looping it around his shoulders, arm going to Sam's waist as he hauled him up.

Sam leaned against his brother and glanced down at his now dirty clothes. Dean pushed the Impala door shut with his foot and started moving toward the hotel room, Sam hobbling and trying to keep up, really wanting to shower once he got into the hotel room again. He felt rather dirty having that doctor that close to him, and he still needed to clam down, and a cold shower would easily remedy both problems.

Dean leaned Sam against the wall by the door and quickly took the keys out, unlocking the door and pushing it open before grabbing Sam again, Sam leaning against his brother once more as he was lead into the motel room and set on the closest bed, which also happened to be Dean's.

Dean sat next to his brother, making Sam feel kind of uncomfortable, and had his leg been working, he would have run to the bathroom to turn the water down as low as it would go and jump in, clothes in all, they needed to be washed too anyway.

The room was silent, the door still part way open, and Dean just seemed to be thinking, lost in his own little world, Sammy doing his best to scoot away from him but not really getting anywhere.

Dean finally pushed himself up and closed the door before turning to look at Sam.

"Sammy, I want you to tell me what is wrong- why were you doing that, and I want you to tell me _now_."

Sam looked up at him then down at his thighs, taking a slow breath. If he told Dean, Dean would probably hate him, and if he didn't tell him, Dean would be pissed and possibly never talk to Sam again other than giving him a 'I'm just trying to protect you' speech. If he told him, then Dean could accept it and move on… or… make Sammy's wet dreams come true… or he could throw Sammy out on his ass, tell him he was disgusting, and that he never wanted to see him again. If he didn't tell him, there was a big possibility that Dean wouldn't let him be alone in a room by himself for the next year, so Sammy would want to explode by day two.

"Sam, stop thinking and tell me." Dean demanded, jerking Sammy away from his 'he could' thoughts.

Sam bit his lips and looked up at Dean, "Because… I know you could never love me the same way I love you, Dean."

"Sammy, you're my brother, I do love you, I just can't show it very well."

"No… Dean… The way I love you… isn't in a brotherly way."

The look on Dean's face was a mix of worry, confusion, and maybe a hint of disgust.

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Tochi: 'To all my loving fan's: Don't hate me for taking forever, Sammy's been keeping me busy with _SIX_ pornful roleplays at the same time.'


	7. My Way

Tochi: LAST CHAPTER! -dies- I'm gonna finish one!

Flap Jack: IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!

Tochi: It jut may be.

Disclaimer: Linc: We only own the plot and our box house… and a hobo

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"Come again?" Dean asked, his eye twitching a bit.

"I-I guess… I have a crush on you."

Dean nodded slowly, his eyebrows raising to his hairline.

"And that's why you've been hurting yourself?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, because I know it's just wrong."

"You're right, Sammy. It is wrong." Dean said, shaking is head before going to the bathroom to clear his thoughts.

'_Well… it could have gone worse. He could have run away screaming.'_ Sam thought, wishing his leg would hurry up and be able to feel again so he could possibly run away screaming.

Dean, meanwhile was standing in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. Incest was just wrong, even for them… but… it would help his baby brother, and Dean swore he would protect him no matter what… did 'no matter what' also include 'sexual fantasies causing Sammy to want to hurt himself'?

Dean took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He guessed 'anything' did include 'sexual fantasies causing Sammy to want to hurt himself.

Dean sat down on the cold tile floor, beginning to plot just how he could do this.

Sammy was out on the bed, slowly growing drowsier as the minutes ticked by. By the time it had hit the thirty minute marker, Sammy had stripped off his shirt and crawled up the rest of the way onto the bed, fast asleep.

At the forty five minute marker, Dean came back out of the bathroom, still unable to believe, he was going to do this.

He quietly moved to his bag and dug out the handcuffs that he'd taken with him after a few of his arrests. He looked back up at Sam's shirtless, sleeping form and took a slow breath. For his baby brother, he could do this.

He slowly creeped back up, taking one of Sam's wrists and closing a cuff over it, then very slowly and carefully closing the other end to the bed post, Sam groaning as his arm was moved and shaking his head a bit, yawning widely.

Dean waited, staying completely still until he was sure that Sammy was lulled back to sleep again. He carefully closed another cuff over Sam's other wrist, and pulled it up to the other bed post, putting the other end around it just as Sammy woke back up.

Sam was rather surprised to find Dean looming over him, and even more surprised to find he couldn't move his arms.

"…Dean… what…?" Sam started, still very confused.

"Sam, I promised to protect you no matter what, and you hurting yourself because you fantasize about me falls under 'no matter what'." Dean explained. "I'm going to do this, but I'm going to do this my way."

Sam didn't know whether to be very frightened or ecstatic that Dean was going to do things to him.

"Uhm… Define your way." Sam asked in a small voice.

"The kinky way." Dean shrugged, pushing himself up, "Be right back, need to grab some things." He explained, leaving the room and going to the Impala, popping the trunk. He came back in with a few leads of rope and let them drop to the floor.

He crawled up onto the bed and snapped the button on Sam's jeans, Sam instantly lifting his hips to help Dean out.

Dean easily got Sam stripped and picked up the rope, starting on tying Sam's legs down.

This was a first for Dean. Yeah, he'd been with a guy _once_ when he was 16 (and drunk, by the way), but that was ten years ago, and yeah, he had let his kinky side take over a few times with the ladies, but never, had he gone kinky on a guy.

He took another slow breath and looked up at Sam's face, a small smile lighting it. At least Sammy seemed to be enjoying this.

"Ok, know what domination is, Sammy boy?" Dean asked as casually as he could with his brother tied down and about to have things done to him.

Sam nodded somewhat eagerly, Dean raising a brow.

"Done this before, then?" He asked, with a small smile.

Sam blushed a bit and nodded, wiggling a bit uncomfortably, "Yeah… before I was with Jess…" He trailed off, guessing the rest was irrelevant, and Dean just letting it drop.

"Right, now time to lay down the rules. You can't come until I tell you to, you're not allowed to speak unless I say so, and you're not allowed to move your hips, got it?"

Sam nodded slowly and swallowed thickly. "D-Do I get a safety word?" He asked, receiving a small smack to his inner thigh, "No speaking, and yes, say 'Crush.'."

Sammy frowned, giving Dean a pouty look.

"What?" Dean asked, tipping his head to the side.

"You're just making fun of me now." Sam sulked.

"Sort of, but I'll make this good." He grinned, finally getting into the groove he needed to do this to his baby brother.

Sam nodded and smiled, Dean was going to make his wet dreams come true.

Dean's hands slipped up and down Sam's belly and up to his chest, pinching his nipples hard, Sam gasping and arching up off the mattress.

Dean smiled as he watched his brother, pinching again as he glanced down at his brother's cock, sliding his left hand up and his right hand down, his hand sliding along Sam's hip little finger brushing the base of his cock as his fingers traced Sam's lips.

Sam opened his mouth and took Dean's index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking softly as Dean slowly moved his hand over and skimmed it up Sam's cock, Sam shuddering beneath him.

Dean smiled and fisted his brother's cock, stroking slowly, watching Sam's face for any sign of disagreement. Dean saw none.

Sam was having to force his hips to stay down now, a small whine escaping him as Dean squeezed him tight. Dean pulled his spit slicked fingers out of Sam's mouth and slowly trailed them down Sam's body, his strokes becoming sloppy and uneven as he preoccupies himself with slowly pressing a finger inside Sam, Sam kneeing softly and shuddering beneath him.

"Shh." Dean cooed up to Sam, keeping his finger still for a second before he started moving it in and out slowly.

Sam had closed his eyes and was breathing unevenly, shuddering more beneath him as he felt Dean add his second finger, pushing in slowly, and pausing again, still unevenly stroking Sam's cock.

Sam shuddered again as he felt Dean move and tried not to squirm, but it was really fucking hard to just sit there and let Dean be such a fucking _tease_. Yeah in all of Sam's fantasies Dean had been a bit of a tease, but Jesus, this was just fucking _ insane_.

"'S ok Sammy, just a little bit longer." Dean whispered, pushing his fingers in harder and bumping against Sam's prostrate, Sam unable to keep his hips from bucking off the mattress.

Dean did not punish Sam this time, being his first offense, but did give him a warning growl.

After several more minutes of stroking and teasing Sam's cock, Dean finally held it tight and stroked quickly, moving his hand at the same pace, Sam crying out beneath him in a panic. He knew he couldn't last when Dean stopped his teasing.

"'S ok, Sammy, you can come." Dean whispered lowly, Sam groaning and coming instantly over Dean's hand.

After a minute of sitting there, Dean finally pulled his fingers out slowly so he wouldn't hurt his brother's over-sensitized body.

Dean placed a small kiss on Sam's forehead and made quick work of Sam's bonds.

"We'll discuss this when I come back."

Dean told Sam as he went off to the bathroom to wash off his hands.

By the time he got back, Sam had pulled his boxers back on and was sitting on the bed, breathing slowly.

"Sam?" Dean asked, sitting beside him.

"Yeah?" Sam asked quietly, already having convinced himself that this was going to be a one time thing.

"We can't do this every day, you know, it could really put a toll on your body. We'll have to limit this t once a week… but I'm still doming." Dean informed with a smile.

Sam just smacked the back of his head with a small laugh.

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Tochi: It's a miracle! I wrote a fic and finished it! Though I'm considering a sequel… I'll take votes.

Flap Jack: Oh My God… I can't tell them to alert it because it's _over._ O-ok.. umm… review, vote and join my army -assumes fetal position in corner-


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